


Take My Tears

by ap_marvel



Category: Ready or Not (2019)
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, They deserved better, imma take the one that actually saved her thanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23121646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ap_marvel/pseuds/ap_marvel
Summary: “I – I want to bargain…” She wiped the blood from her lips, swallowing back her regret. “Y – You want people to keep playing the game, right? To make sacrifices.”He continued to stare at her.“To do that you need a Le Domas.” Her lip trembled with disgust as she spat. “I’m not one of them. I didn’t play the game. I didn’t get accepted.” Grace stepped forward determinedly. “But you need one of them.”She could see it in the cold of his eyes. That he understood what she was offering him. All she needed to do was tell him who.“Daniel,” she breathed. “Bring back Daniel.”
Relationships: Daniel Le Domas/Grace Le Domas
Comments: 17
Kudos: 216





	Take My Tears

**Author's Note:**

> I watched this movie today (yes ik i'm late) but i fell in love with Grace and Daniel and i couldn't stop thinking about them so i wrote this fic that's literally scrap but imma post it because i spent too much time doing this instead of updating my other works soooo enjoy!!

“the question is not how to get cured, but how to live.” ― _Joseph Conrad_

♦ ♦ ♦

She stood there, blood dripping off her lashes, seeping down her cleavage and tainting her skin crimson. A cold draft blowing on her legs and arm where she had ripped her dress. Her left hand throbbed in pain; the unusual numbness that had been there dissipated in the time she had stood there.

It was over.

She should smile, take in this victory that had been so gloriously given to her. But there was nothing but the murky darkness that had pooled within her. With every second that ticked by, she could see them. She could see their fucking faces. Their chants whispering in her head. That card.

It was meant to be over. Why wasn’t it over?

Hairs raised on the back of her neck.

Her eyes flicked to the chair.

Le Bail.

“Wait,” she whispered. He started to fade, and she panicked, her voice hysterical. “I want to bargain!”

He froze, a grin etched on his face as he held her gaze.

“I – I want to bargain…” She wiped the blood from her lips, swallowing back her regret. “Y – You want people to keep playing the game, right? To make sacrifices.”

He continued to stare at her.

“To do that you need a Le Domas.” Her lip trembled with disgust as she spat. “I’m not one of them. I didn’t play the game. I didn’t get accepted.” Grace stepped forward determinedly. “But you _need_ one of them.”

She could see it in the cold of his eyes. That he understood what she was offering him. All she needed to do was tell him who.

“Daniel,” she breathed. “Bring back Daniel.”

She blinked.

The seat was empty.

♦

She could feel the blood as it seeped into her skin. It tightened on her skin where it had dried, but she couldn’t think. She could barely feel. The numbness had returned in light of Le Bail’s rejection of her offer.

The only person who had really tried to save her... He was gone.

There was nothing to do now except sit on the steps of the mansion, watching over where she had once thought her new life would begin with glazed eyes. She took in the cigarette, inhaling as much as she could before breathing it all out.

She would never be the same.

She put it to her lips again and let out a long puff.

There was movement beside her, but she barely registered it. Everything around her had been washed in resounding darkness. One she didn’t care to remove. Because it was a temporary bliss, a safe haven for her mind to get away from all this.

She felt the brush of sweet heat against her back. It did little to ease the bite of the cold inside of her but she appreciated it nonetheless.

She felt the cigarette being removed from her fingers. She heard the crackle as it was being smoked before they exhaled.

Grace turned her head.

Daniel.

He was sitting there beside her. Dressed in his undone tux, his bloodied bowtie still slung around his neck as he held the cigarette in his red-stained fingers, a glass of whiskey in his other hand. Dried blood staining half his neck and down his chin. He stared ahead as he smoked, taking a sip of whiskey in between each puff.

“You won.”

A smile tugged at her lips before it became a grin. Then, sounds of laughter erupted from her. It cut through the silence between them and sung with the roar of the fire and the blister of the sirens. She could barely breathe, and her lungs shrieked at her, but the laughter continued. It engulfed her, protecting from this crazy, crazy world she had unwillingly delved into. And she couldn’t stop.

It was only when his eyes locked with hers that she realized that the laughter had caught in her throat, now it was replaced with shaky breaths and silent tears. Relief that it was over, that he was here. Terrified that she would be back in there again, playing that game.

She had won her life, yes. But at what cost?

He didn’t hold her hand. He didn’t wipe her tears. He wasn’t even touching her. It was as if he knew that she didn’t want to be touched. Not for a long time. He passed the cigarette over to her and she took it, taking a long drag which momentarily stopped the tears.

It didn’t change anything, him being here. It didn’t change the fact that his family were psychotic devil worshippers that ritualistically killed people, or that he had helped them do so. And it didn’t change the fact that the person she had once been was long gone, now replaced by this hollow stranger. But it eased her a little. The guilt of his death slipped away. And more importantly, knowing that he understood what she had endured. That he had endured it too in a different, less violent way.

But maybe that was the beginning of the healing process.

Understanding.

♦

It took her months before she could sleep at night. The few nights she had, she’d awake abruptly from the sounds of her screams and left with the echoes of ropes cutting into her wrists and ankles. In the beginning, he would talk to her through the other side of her door but as time went on and her night terrors significantly worsened, she asked if he could stay with her. And he did. He would sit on the far end of her bed and wait until she fell asleep.

Daniel was always awake. Just as she dealt with what had happened by secluding herself, he had taken to sleeping all day and drinking all night. They never spoke of it, never acknowledged it. But having each other… It was enough.

Weeks went by and it continued, she’d awake and he’d come into her room immediately and sit down on the bed. He began to sleep in her room on the floor beside her bed, she realized, when she had awoken (non-violently) in the night. She decided to sleep beside him. As uncomfortable as it was, it was the first night that she had slept well.

The guilt was beginning to overwhelm her as his drinking habits worsened. It had taken a few restless nights before she decided to come clean. Grace let out what had been plaguing her and told him what she had done to bring him back. That her bargain had a loophole, he was the last Le Domas and so as long as he didn’t marry, nobody would die in that game and that he… He would be _alive_. The tension between was so thick, it smothered her. He stood there in shock, his eyes darkening before he left with a slam of the door.

She awoke to the sound of glass smashing. She got out of her bed abruptly, her heart so thunderous beneath her chest that she was unsure how she was alive. She flinched at the sound of his drunken shouting. Grace forced herself to make her way down the hallway, following his voice. His back faced her as the kitchen floor was splayed with shattered glass and spilled whiskey. He turned, seeing her quivering hands and tear-stained cheeks, realizing what his actions had reminded her of. He told her that it was all her fault, she was selfish, and everything would have been okay if she had just left him alone. His jaw trembled as he told her that he wished he was still dead with a broken voice. It ripped something apart inside her. She nodded, taking all his anger and fury. She felt all the guilt that piled up on her as she walked towards him, seeing his cheeks were stained with tears too. She told him she was sorry that he was suffering, sorry for all the misery she had caused him, but she also told him how fucking happy she was that he was alive and how strong and deserving he was to live. She felt her heart in her throat as she wrapped her arms around him, and she felt relief as he did the same a beat later. They stood like that, in the chaos around them for a while. Finding comfort in one another.

She took his hand and took him to the bathroom; she cleaned every cut and removed the shards of glass on his feet and hands before she tucked him into bed with her. She told him how fucking glad she was that he was alive, stroking his hair until he began to drift off.

He stopped drinking after that. The few occasions that her nightmares returned – he soothed her cries with soft whispers. The times that he would relapse, and she found him wasted out of his mind with puke all over himself, she would clean him up and take him to their bed, stroking his hair until he slept the booze away.

It took a few weeks before things resumed to how they were prior to her admission. They were better. Like she was finally back on her feet. Like she could breathe again.

They had been lying in bed, talking for hours about anything and nothing. Words drifted into silence. She closed her eyes. He said her name like it was his dying breath. She turned to him, her heart pounding. Fear flooding through her. Her eyes darted between his. He whispered that he loved her. She couldn’t breathe. She smiled through the tears as her fingers stroked his face. She whispered it back.

It had taken years and she still wasn’t right. Neither was Daniel. But he had told that he never was, that he didn’t know what normal was. But with him she almost felt normal, despite it all.

Grace was sitting in the living room, curled up under many blankets and watching something beyond boring as she ate a various assortment of snacks. He was resting his head on her lap, looking up at her. He smiled and she cupped his cheek with her hand, her thumb brushing across the curve of his lips. He asked if he could kiss her. She bit back a smile as she whispered _yes_. They kissed, it was soft and slow and bursting with yearning. His hand went to rest on the side of her face, she flinched. It reminded her of _him_. They pulled apart and he apologized. She interrupted him before he finished, asking him not to touch her face or neck, which he nodded sincerely to, before she pressed her lips against his again. He smiled into her kiss.

They had healed in some ways. In others, she didn’t think they ever could. Like a scar that couldn’t fade. But they had each other to get through it. And maybe that was all it took.


End file.
